Where Are the Sex Machines?

It's 2007, and we still don't have any decent sex machines. What the hell?

Hey, scientists: In the 50's you guys promised us flying cars. Well, the millennium came and went, and guess what? No flying cars. But, hey, you know what? Screw the flying cars! I want something I can stick my ding-a-ling in. Something with moving parts, space-age polymers, complicated hydraulics and neural receptor things you stick on your head. What the hell are you guys doing all day?

I say, if you have enough time to develop nuclear bombs, go to the moon, and create genetically engineered man-goats, then it seems like you could work in a Blowjomatic 2000 or something.

You know, if we had sex machines, we wouldn't even need nuclear bombs. We could just fly over Iraq and drop Blowjomatics on them. Really, those sex-starved Al-Qaeda guys wouldn't know what hit them. "A sex-machine in the hand is better than 72 virgins in the bush."

And this is what puzzles me: They say it's a “man's world”. Then why is it that women have all these amazing dildos that spin and vibrate and rotate and wiggle and do the cha-cha and everything but fix you a cup of coffee in the morning, while us boys are stuck with... what? Pocket pussies? Are you shitting me? That's the best we can do? I'd rather stick my dick in a cantaloupe (which I've done, by the way).

Unacceptable.

Time to get the ball rolling on this, fellas. Let's get this project up and running. Women have far too much coochie power as it is, and now with their high-tech bionic dildos to turn to, it's only going to get worse. Eventually they're going to figure out that they really don't need us at all.


Alright. So here's what I've come up with so far, run with this:

I envision something with a virtual-reality helmet, maybe, and you can load a disc or cartridge into it, like a video game. But with a thing that attaches to your genitals. I don't know, I'm not an engineer, but something along those lines. After a tough day at the toilet factory you could say “tonight I'm feeling like Drew Barrymore...”, put your helmet on and load in the Drew Barrymore disc. Then maybe a menu pops up, where you can give her a mohawk and a nose ring if you want, like in Grand Theft Auto.

Something like that.

And if it costs $60,000, then so be it. That may seem like a lot of money, but if you think about it: Why do guys buy $60,000 cars? Primarily to attract women. I say: cut out the middle-man. I say: Emancipate yourself from coochie slavery. I say: Drive around in a piece-of-shit 89' Honda Accord all day, then go home and bang Drew Barrymore with a purple mohawk.


(and yes, it's been awhile)